


A Little Coaxing

by CommonNonsense



Series: Overwatch Ficlets [7]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 21:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17568269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommonNonsense/pseuds/CommonNonsense
Summary: Hanzo knows how to get McCree out of a mood.





	A Little Coaxing

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr kiss prompts: 72.) When One Person’s Face Is Scrunched Up, And The Other One Kisses Their Lips/Nose/Forehead + 74.) Kisses Where One Person Is Sitting In The Other’s Lap + 75.) Kisses Meant To Distract The Other Person From Whatever They Were Intently Doing

Hanzo finds McCree, astoundingly enough, in the rec room, a couple of hours after the shuttle originally lands. Hanzo had not been there to greet McCree upon returning from his mission, had tried to find him as soon as possible and sent a couple of texts inquiring about his whereabouts, but in the end it had taken simply searching on foot. Sometimes he needs to worry when McCree disappears; other times, it is not so concerning.

Upon finding McCree out in public, rather than holed up in his dorm, Hanzo realizes this is one of those times.

McCree, perched on the couch, does not look up when Hanzo enters the room. Peacekeeper is laid out on a cloth on the long coffee table, broken down into parts to McCree’s left and right. The ones on the right gleam under the fluorescent lights, shiny under a fresh coat of cleaning solution and oil; those on the left still await their turn, scarcely any dirtier than the others. Still, McCree works on them all with a narrow-eyed intensity that others might view as worrisome.

Hanzo, however, knows it for the distraction that it is. McCree’s attention to detail is too fine, his movements too intentional to be the work of someone truly angry at the world--this is a McCree trying to distract himself, not one putting his energy into something productive. It is a subtle difference, but one Hanzo has learned to pick up on in their time together. 

He comes to a stop in front of McCree and waits for him to notice. McCree does, almost immediately, but he finishes with the spring in his hands before he looks up. His expression softens slightly, only for his frown to deepen again immediately after. He ducks his head, as though caught in a slip.

“Hey, sweetness,” he says to the cloth in his hand. 

“Jesse,” Hanzo replies easily. He shifts, bumping his knees against McCree’s. “I’m sorry I was unable to meet you when you returned.”

“Didn’t matter. Had to sit in that debrief for like two hours right after, anyway.” McCree reaches around Hanzo’s legs for another piece of his gun.

“Still.” Hanzo reaches out lazily with one hand, brushes a piece of McCree’s hair away from his face. McCree hesitates for a moment before he moves away, out of Hanzo’s reach. Hanzo doesn’t miss the way his cheek starts to turn up with a smile before he smothers it.

“Not sure I’m the best company right now,” McCree says. 

Hanzo hums, unconvinced. “I thought your mission went well?”

“S’fine.”

“Then what is the matter?”

“It’s nothin’ you need to worry about. And I’m  _ trying  _ to get something done, if you don’t mind.” McCree leans back and out of Hanzo’s space, gesturing with Peacekeeper’s disembodied cylinder to demonstrate. 

Hanzo does mind, and he sidles back into McCree’s space, putting one knee on the couch and letting it press against McCree’s thigh. He smiles mildly at McCree’s halfhearted glare. “There a reason you’re gettin’ in the way?” asks McCree irritably.

Hanzo laughs, bends down, and presses a dry kiss to McCree’s furrowed brow. “Because you are being ridiculous,” he says. McCree’s jaw drops, incredulous, and Hanzo replies with another kiss to the crease of his nose before adding, “You are, in fact, being incredibly rude for no good reason.”

“I’m not sure I’m the one bein’ rude here.”

“I come to greet you and congratulate you on a mission well done,” Hanzo says, lips against McCree’s forehead, “and you act angry and try to ignore me because you wish to pout. I would think that to be rude.”

McCree huffs, but his free hand finds his way to Hanzo’s hips anyway, and Hanzo knows he’s already won. “Or maybe you don’t know how to respect a good brood,” McCree retorts.

“On the contrary,” Hanzo says, lazily draping his arms over McCree’s shoulders, “I know the difference between when you are truly angry and when you  _ wish _ to be angry.” He gets his other knee on the couch, and McCree lets him, and he settles comfortably into McCree’s lap. “One I will allow. The other, I will not.”

“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?” McCree still has his gun’s cyclinder clutched in one hand, even as he wraps his arms around Hanzo’s waist.

“You may have mentioned it before.”

McCree awkwardly tosses the piece of his gun onto the table somewhere behind Hanzo, where it clatters and clinks against something else metal. He tips his head up, now expectant instead of resistant, and Hanzo can’t help a triumphant chuckle as he bends down to meet him.

Despite  _ trying _ to be annoyed and uninterested to start, McCree quickly gives up all pretense. His lips soften and eventually purse against Hanzo’s, his hands gripping and relaxing on Hanzo's hips. Hanzo mostly means it as a distraction but lets himself get caught up in it, the play of lips and breath and teasing flickers of tongue. There is no urgency, only the quiet of the room and the familiarity in each other’s presence, and McCree gradually relaxes as the seconds pass.

When they part, McCree buries his face in Hanzo’s shoulder. He heaves a weary sigh, breath hot through Hanzo’s shirt. Hanzo runs his fingers through McCree’s hair, enjoying the moment of peace while McCree collects himself.

After a minute of this, McCree shifts, turning his head to rest his cheek against Hanzo’s shoulder instead. “Saw Reaper while we were out,” he says.

“Oh?”

It is a long moment before McCree speaks again. He starts dragging his fingertips along a small section of Hanzo’s spine, down and up again in a rhythm Hanzo suspects is more for his own comfort. “Thing is, I saw him and I wasn’t mad. Not really. I wanted to be. Thought I  _ should _ be. But the more I see him with Talon, the more I forget he was Reyes, I guess. Or it stops matterin’ that he was.” He frowns. “Is.”

Hanzo listens quietly, unsure of what else to offer but his presence. McCree takes another deep breath and sits back. 

“Guess I wanted to be mad because it’s easier,” he says. “Easier to be mad than admit I don’t feel that much about it anymore.” He blows out a breath and looks up, a small smile coming across his lips. “But I guess that’s dumb, ain’t it. Especially when I’ve got someone trying as hard as you are to keep me afloat.” 

Hanzo smiles softly. “Someone must keep you from being too ridiculous,” he says.

McCree snorts. “You say that like I don't spend half my time keepin’ you in line,” he replies.

“We are not talking about me.”

“Of course not.” The smile spreads,  “Thank you, darlin’.” 

“Of course.” McCree sits up for another kiss. Hanzo expects it to be a quick peck, but McCree makes a negative hum against his mouth and gently, but insistently, pulls him back down with an arm around his neck. Hanzo laughs, the sound quickly lost between them, and settles in for whatever McCree has planned now. 


End file.
